A Metaphor for an Empty Beer Bottle
by Emily Katherine
Summary: “The Wedding” PostEp...JD...Disclaimer cause I forgot: They're not mine.


.A Metaphor for an Empty Beer Bottle.

Author: Emily Katherine

Summary: "The Wedding" Post-Ep (a little J/D) "That's when Josh first remembered falling in love with politics."

Spoilers: up to "The Wedding"

Josh's mind was racing as he fumbled with his keys. Iowa. Illinois. Wisconsin. They were all bleeding together. Finally unlocking the door, he stepped into the darkness of his apartment. He felt drained and disappointed and scared. New Hampshire. Washington. New Jersey. Tossing his coat onto a nearby coffee table, he knocked over an empty beer bottle. It clattered as it rolled off the table and onto the carpet, but surprisingly didn't shatter. Josh winced at the irony. Pondering indestructible beer bottles, he shrugged out of his tux jacket and tugged on his bow-tie.

The pressure of the past few weeks – or more correctly, the past year – was building up like water behind a dam. He could feel it – the imminence, the inevitability. Florida. Pennsylvania. Flipping on the dim light in the kitchen, he nervously ran a hand through his hair. Oregon. Connecticut. He opened the refrigerator door, then closed it again. Restless, Josh walked back into the living room and fished a tattered map out of the inside pocket of his tux jacket, collapsing heavily onto the couch. The light filtering from the kitchen wasn't enough to illuminate the map, but he didn't really need to look at it anyway. It was plastered to the back of his mind – always present, always visible. The map in his hands was only a comfort, a constant. Josh traced each individual state with his index finger, starting with Maine. His fourth grade Advanced English teacher had required his class to memorize all fifty states and their capitals for a test. That's when Josh first remembered falling in love with politics. He made his father quiz him while he read the morning paper. "Capital of Kansas," his dad would rumble over the top of the Times, sipping black coffee. "Topeka!" Josh would cry emphatically. Noah Lyman would flip down a top corner of the paper and wink at him.

Sometimes, Josh got a state wrong. For a while, he thought that Kansas City was the capital of Kansas. His dad would lift an eyebrow quizzically and refuse to move on to another state until Josh got it right. Josh found this extremely frustrating, but in the end, he completed his final states/capitals test in under two minutes.

Josh rubbed his gritty eyes and forced himself to focus. Ad buys, fundraising, the general campaign – so many monetary setbacks for a candidate who should be able to win, not with money or charm, but with truth and compassion. Josh wondered if he was obsessing and losing sleep over a ratty map only to walk into the office the next day and lose everything. Would Santos really be willing to replace his campaign manager, his go-to guy, so late in the game? Would Matt…

Josh's thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. He waited to see if he was delirious, but a few seconds later, the knock returned. He ran a hand through his unruly hair, not bothering to smooth it back down.

"Come in!" he called, his voice thick and unused.

"I could have been a crazy man with an axe, Josh," Donna chided him as she stepped into his apartment. "Next time, use the peephole."

Josh tried to smile, but his facial muscles failed him. Why wasn't she still at the reception? She stood in front of him with a take-out bag in one hand and two beers and her keys in the other. She had changed out of her formal dress and into loose jeans and a "We Be Jammin" T-shirt. She cocked her head inquisitively, as if asking him a million questions that he wasn't ready to answer.

"I didn't know you went to the Bahamas," he said quietly, not meeting her gaze, instead staring at the dancers on her shirt.

"Josh, why are you sitting in the dark?" she ignored his pseudo-inquiry and walked into the kitchen to set the food on the counter. She came back and switched on the lamp closest to Josh, inspecting him in the unnatural glow.

"I brought food," she told him. She didn't expect a reaction; Josh didn't give one. "You need to eat, Josh."

"Donna…"

"Josh."

He finally looked up at her. Her eyes were fierce with concern. The emotion was etched in the lines of her face, her taut lips.

"Why aren't you at the reception?" he asked faintly, breaking eye contact.

"Why aren't you?" she countered. He didn't respond.

"Your mysterious disappearance didn't go unnoticed, Josh. Leo found me and…"

"I needed to clear my head." He angrily met her gaze again. She glanced down at the map in his hands and raised an eyebrow.

"Looks to me like you're doing just the opposite." She reached for the map.

"Donna!" he clutched it to him, flustered and furious, but she was too quick. She snatched the map out of his grip and stuck it in the back pocket of her jeans. He glared at her, betrayal and rage coursing through him.

"Donna…" he growled. She stood her ground, unwavering.

"I thought you were different, Donna," Josh muttered angrily. He propelled himself off of the couch and into the kitchen. "I thought you were better than them."

She narrowed her eyes and followed him, arms at her sides and fists clenched.

"Better than who?"

He didn't answer, his rigid back to her.

"Josh? Better than who?" she inquired through gritted teeth. He was silent for a few more seconds, then whirled around, eyes flashing.

"Better than Senator Montgomery! Better than Representatives from Wisconsin or power-hungry Democrats! Better than Matt Santos! Better than…" he momentarily quelled his rant and lowered his voice. "Better than Leo McGarry."

Donna stared at him, shocked and disappointed. She shook her head.

"How dare you compare Leo McGarry to power-hungry politicians! Leo, Josh? Is that what this is really about? Is that what you want this to be about? Because Leo doesn't deserve your blame. No one does…"

"But everyone is blaming me, Donna! And I don't know why! And I want to scream and I want to cry. I want to run. I want to hit things. I want to sleep. But I can't. I can't do anything but stare at that damn map!" He waved a finger toward her back pocket.

"It's not the map, Josh," Donna said softly. She bravely met his dark, fierce eyes. "It's you. You're staring at yourself and you hate what you see." Josh winced, but she continued. "You've got to snap out of it, Josh. I know you probably think you see failure, incompetence, vulnerability. But that's not what I see. We're counting on you, Josh. The Congressman, Lou, me, Leo. Even if we don't act like it, even when we're scared and lost and suspicious, even when we blame the ones we love the most for our mistakes…" He looked up at her, his sad eyes conversing with her own. "Even then, Josh, there's no one else we'd rather rely on than you. You're the guy the guy counts on, remember?" She touched his arm and smiled gently, sadly. He stared into her eyes, letting her words sink in. He was linked to her, through her physical touch and through the understanding in her gaze. She knew him better than anyone. Even after their year-long detachment, she knew how he was going to react to this situation even before it happened. She knew exactly how he felt, every emotion. And she'd known that he was going to leave before the reception. She always put him first, and almost always put him before herself. He had accused her of betraying him when she was the only friend he had left.

"I'm not Leo." He took her hand gently in his, looking at her intensely. She smiled.

"Of course you're not. And I don't expect you to be. Neither does he. You're Josh and you're brilliant, and in six weeks, you're going to get the first Hispanic president in the history of the United States elected." She squeezed his hand, still smiling at him.

"We," he said quietly. "We're going to get him elected."

She slowly pulled away and began to walk toward the door.

"Leo believes in you, Josh. I believe in you. Now it's time for you to believe in yourself. I brought you Chinese. You need to eat." She smiled again and slid the map out of her pocket, placing it on the coffee table. After picking up the empty beer bottle and setting it back on the table, she turned to leave.

"Donna." Josh's voice was thick. She turned back around, the compassion in her sad eyes reflected in his.

"Stay. A little company would be nice for a change." He offered her a shy half-smile. She grinned and quickly traversed the distance between them, wrapping her arms snugly around his neck, smiling into his shoulder. He held her tightly, allowing his body to relax.

"I wasn't sure if I should come," she whispered. His breath warmed her ear and teased her thin hair.

"I'm really glad you did, Donnatella."

.end.


End file.
